


I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet

by gabgee



Series: college au [2]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, First Meetings, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabgee/pseuds/gabgee
Summary: A look at the first couple of times Newt and Thomas meet.





	1. first

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt's having a pretty miserable time at a party until a boy with an infectious smile and friendly eyes comes along.

The same song was playing for the third time in a row. Newt thought his ears must be bleeding by this point; if not his ears, maybe his eyes. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Minho was chanting some sort of drinking game and handing out shots, stumbling over every other word. He caught his eye for a moment and held up a shot. Newt shook his head with wide eyes. Luckily, Minho’s attention was quickly diverted to another guy who was chugging his beer. Newt sighed heavily and backed further into the corner — not that this was even possible.

He knew he was going to hate this. He had nothing in common with these guys other than a mutual friend. A couple of them had tried to engage him in conversation about running, drugs and girls — the three subjects that Newt felt least comfortable talking about. He’d spluttered out some humiliating responses and they’d nodded politely before returning to the group. Newt was desperate to shout at Minho for putting him through this, but he wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole; he’d wait until they got home, at least.

Newt was just about to try and slip out of the apartment without being noticed when someone bounded over to him.

“Not your thing?” the stranger said.

Newt turned to him with raised eyebrows, ready to spit out a sarcastic answer, but his response got caught in his throat. The boy was _cute_.

Not that most of the guys here weren’t, because they were. The one reason Newt hadn’t left thus far was (shamefully) because although they were all kind of annoying, they were at least fun to watch. But this guy was different.

He was a little shorter than Newt, but still tall, with a lean stature and confident stance. He wore black jeans and a plaid flannel over a simple white t-shirt. His hair was dark and relatively naturally styled, flopping over his forehead. He had wide, curious eyes that were almost as dark as his hair; they scanned Newt’s face eagerly when he didn’t answer straight away. Newt forced himself to snap out of his creepy analysis.

“No, not really,” he said slowly. “I don’t even do track.”

“You don’t? I kinda figured you did, ‘cause… y’know,” the boy said, waving a hand to gesture up and down Newt’s body. Newt raised an eyebrow and laughed a little. Interesting.

“Used to, not anymore.”

“How come?”

_Mind your business_ , Newt knew he should say. Instead, he rolled his eyes and grinned. “What’s with the twenty questions, hm?”

Thomas threw his head back in a laugh and Newt felt his heart lift. It was a genuine, musical laugh that reached his eyes and made them sparkle. Newt thought briefly that he wouldn't mind hearing that sound on repeat for the rest of his life.  _God_ , he needed to back off a bit.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Just you’re the only person here not disgustingly drunk so I figured you might wanna chat. I’m Thomas.”

Newt took his outstretched hand and shook it, definitely holding on for a few seconds too long. But then again, so did Thomas. “Newt.”

“I’m sorry?”

Newt laughed a little louder than he would’ve liked to. “My name. It’s Newt.”

“Oh! Sorry, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s fine, I know it’s a tough one,” Newt joked. Thomas’ grin widened. 

“I’m gonna go grab us a beer,” Thomas said before sauntering off into the crowd.

Newt watched him go in disbelief.

Maybe the night wasn’t looking so dreadful after all. This guy was the first person he’d met at college that he'd been interested in and had a glimmer of hope they could be interested back. He suddenly didn’t hate Minho so much for dragging him along to this party after all.

Speak of the devil: “Stop sulking in the corner and come _meet_ people, Newt!” he shouted as he jogged over.

“I’m not _sulking_. I was talking to someone.”

“There’s no one here. Are you hallunic — hallucinating?” Minho stuttered. Newt could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“He went to get drinks, genius.”

“Oooooh,” Minho cooed, wiggling his eyebrows. “Quick, tell me which one it is. I don’t know all of their names yet, but—”

“Here you go. Oh, hey, Minho.”

“Thomasssssss!”

Newt watched with raised eyebrows as his best friend and new friend performed some sort of ridiculous secret handshake before hugging like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

“I see you met my roommate,” Minho slurred, looking between Thomas and Newt.

“You guys live together?” Thomas asked enthusiastically. Minho nodded.

“Unfortunately,” Newt said. “Known this idiot since middle school.”

“Ah,” Thomas smiled. “Known him since last week.”

“I win,” Newt grinned. "Or lose, depending how you look at it."

Minho let out a laugh and Newt looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. His comment hadn’t been _that_ funny; Newt had a feeling that it wasn't what he was laughing at.

“I’ll leave you guys to it. Ben wants to do more shots.”

“Oh, he’s goin’ to die,” Newt groaned.

“And you get the honour of dragging him home!”

Newt turned to Thomas and found him leaning on the wall next to him, looking over at him with a half-smile and holding out the beer he’d forgotten to take before.

“Thanks,” Newt said as he accepted it. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it by now.”

“Did he make you come tonight?”

“Yep. I tried to refuse but he said something along the lines of ‘it’s been three weeks and you’ve made no friends, get a life’.”

Thomas laughed at Newt’s terrible American accent.

“That persuaded you?”

“No, just made me realise that I’m a loser and I need to get drunk. Gotta conform to the college stereotype at least once.”

“I see. Well, cheers to that,” Thomas said, clinking the neck of his bottle against Newt’s.

“So, what do you do?”

 

Newt and Thomas chatted for almost an hour; at first, they just exchanged small talk about their degrees, where they were from, where they lived now. But they pretty quickly became comfortable and were joking around like good friends. Newt found that Thomas was pretty easy to make fun of (one of his favourite qualities in a person, given his sarcastic nature) but could give as much playful banter as he could take. His wide, searching eyes also made Newt feel like he was the most fascinating person in the room, which wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

To say he was interested in this guy was an understatement. Not necessarily just romantically, either; Newt found himself thinking that he hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone he barely knew since he’d first met Minho. It was a strange feeling, wanting to let someone new in for the first time in a while but he wanted to know everything there was to know about Thomas.

The fact that Newt had a gut feeling that Thomas was interested in boys and, specifically, _him_ was an added bonus.

Newt didn't realise how much time had passed until he looked up and noticed half of the party had disappeared. Only Minho, Newt, Thomas and about five other guys remained.

“Uh, where’d everyone go?”

“I think most people were heading out to another place after this. Dunno about these guys.”

“Oh,” Newt nodded. He was worried he seemed far too eager, but he couldn’t stop the question from escaping. “Are you going?”

“Nah, promised I’d meet Rachel.”

Newt forced himself not to look disappointed or surprised. “Rachel…?”

Thomas looked slightly embarrassed. He scratched the back of his neck and looked down at the floor. 

“Yeah, ha. She does biology, too. Been seeing her since first week.”

“Wow, Tommy. You move fast, huh?” Newt tried at a joke. It worked, apparently; Thomas chuckled and managed to meet Newt’s eyes again.

“Oh, it’s my natural charisma,” Thomas replied. _Yeah, that’d be it,_ Newt thought. He felt stupid for thinking someone as lovely as Thomas could be single. “Also, ‘Tommy’?”

Newt furrowed his eyebrows in confusion for a few seconds before realising the nickname had slipped out accidentally.

“Sorry, _Thomas_. Not a nickname guy?”

“No, no!” Thomas insisted. “I like it. Only my friend Teresa calls me Tom, only you can call me Tommy. It can be our thing.”

“Our _thing_?” Newt grinned.

“Oh absolutely, we need a _thing_. Like mine and Minho’s handshake. Really solidifies the friendship.”

“You’re an idiot,” Newt scoffed. “But alright. Tommy it is.”

“What about you, anyway? Met any hotties yet?”

_Yeah, you_ , definitely wasn’t an appropriate response given the new information about Thomas’ relationship status so Newt rolled his eyes dramatically instead. 

“‘ _Hotties_ ’? You sound like a middle-aged woman.”

“Hey, if that’s what you’re into.”

Newt shoved him playfully. “No, haven’t met anyone,” he said somewhat sarcastically.

“Seriously? C’mon Newt, you’re a catch, I can’t believe that,” Thomas said, seeming genuinely confused. 

“Thanks, Tommy, but seems like most guys are more interested in these muscly specimens,” Newt said, gesturing over to where Minho sat around with the remaining runners.

Newt watched Thomas’ face for any flicker of surprise or discomfort over the mention of his sexuality; there was none.

“Well, that’s dumb. Muscle is overrated.”

“Skinny, pale artists are coming back into fashion, am I right?”

“Absolutely,” Thomas promised.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Thomas smiled warmly before pulling Newt in for a hug. Newt couldn’t help but make a sound of surprise against his neck; he didn’t really do contact with near-strangers. Nor friends, for that matter. But he didn’t really think he could shove Thomas off of him without hurting his feelings, so he wrapped his arms around his waist hesitantly. Luckily, it only lasted a few seconds.

“Alright, gotta go. It was great meeting you. Sorry you hate all my friends.”

“I don’t—”

“Kidding, kidding! I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Newt breathed. “Yeah, I’ll get Minho to get you over to our place or something? You guys have each other’s numbers, right?”

“Nah, but I’ll see him at track meets. Got him on Facebook, too. I’ll find you!”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“Thomas?” 

“Mmm?” Thomas seemed frozen to the spot with some unspoken hesitancy. Newt smirked at him.

“You were leaving?”

“Shit, yeah! See ya, Newt.”

“Bye, Tommy.”

 

True to his word, Thomas added Newt on Facebook that very night; the notification was waiting for Newt when he got into bed. As he flicked through some of his pictures, Newt tried not to think about the fact he’d done this whilst still with his girlfriend, but he couldn’t help it. He felt weirdly proud that he’d been able to make enough of an impression on Thomas for him to take the time to find and add him. He was used to budding friendships that felt completely one-sided; his dry, sarcastic humour often scared people off.

Would it be too weird to message him at one AM when they’d met mere hours ago? Probably.

Luckily, he didn’t have to decide.

 

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

newton???! you kept that quiet

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

Yeah, no one calls me that. Including you, okay?

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

can’t promise anything... ps: did you discover gravity?

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

Ha ha, very original, never heard that one before

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

sorry couldn’t resist ;-)

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

Stop neglecting your date, Greenie

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

i’m not, she went home. also thought we settled on tommy?

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

I’m full of surprises

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

i don’t doubt it. hope minho wasn’t too much of a nightmare to get home

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

I wouldn’t know, I left him with Ben. Wink wink

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

I CALLED IT I KNEW THEY LIKED EACH OTHER

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

You didn’t hear it from me

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

whatever u say. wanna hang out after track meet tomorrow? minho nd i were gonna grab lunch or smth

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

Sounds good. I’ll tag along with him and wait for you guys to finish

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

awesome :D see ya tomorrow newt

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

Night, Greenie

 

**_Thomas Green:_ **

i much prefer tommy

 

**_Newton Isaacs:_ **

Tough luck

 

 

Before Newt went to sleep, he resolved to get over the little crush he’d developed on Thomas as soon as possible. Because, more than anything, he wanted to be this guy’s friend, and he wasn’t going to let any pesky little feelings get in the way of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. i lasted all of five minutes without posting anything from this universe
> 
> hope you enjoy! let me know what you thought <3


	2. second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas hang out some more the very next day.

When Newt got up the next morning, it was to answer a persistent knocking at the front door. When he swung it open with a glare, he found Minho grinning sheepishly on the other side.

“Wow, you look disgusting,” Newt groaned. “Don’t tell me you lost your keys?”

“Fuck you! Nah, just left ‘em here.”

“That kind of ignores the purpose of keys, no?” Newt said sarcastically, flopping onto the sofa.

“Thought I’d be coming home at the same time as you.”

“Ah.” Newt raised his eyebrows. “Instead you’re traipsing in at nine AM after shaggin’ one of your mates?”

“Please don’t say ‘shagging’, you know how I feel about it.”

“That’s a yes, then.”

Minho smirked before flipping Newt off and going to his room, presumably to shower. Newt decided to do the same.

“I’m coming to track with you, don’t leave without me!” he shouted through Minho’s door on his way. The grunt he got in response was as much confirmation as he needed that he’d been heard.

 

“Why are you coming?” Minho asked as they were leaving the apartment nearly two hours later.

“To support you in all of your endeavours.”

“Aw, babe,” Minho said in a high-pitched voice, making Newt roll his eyes. “But actually?”

“Thomas asked if I wanted to hang out with ya afterwards. Thought I might as well just come watch,” Newt explained. 

They made their way down the stairs together and got into Newt’s car; usually they’d walk, but they were both a little exhausted after a late night. Minho, especially, due the added bonus of his tremendous hangover.

“Was that the first time you guys have met? You seemed to get on well.”

“Yeah, he just came over and we started chattin’. He’s cool.”

“Cool?” Minho grinned, looking over at Newt from the passenger seat with raised eyebrows. Newt determinedly did not look at him. “‘Cool’ like you wanna be buddies or ‘cool’ like you’re wondering if he’s gay and single?”

“The first one, asshole,” Newt groaned. “I know he’s not single.”

“Did you _ask_? That’s forward of you.”

“ _No_! He said he was leaving to meet his girlfriend.”

“Who’s his girlfriend?”

“Jesus, Minho,” Newt sighed. “I can’t remember her name. Isn’t he your friend? Why don’t you ask him?”

“Alright, alright. Sorry I asked.”

“Good.”

“Miserable bastard,” Minho muttered.

“I should tell you to fuck off but I’m honestly just proud of you for saying ‘bastard’.”

“Fuck! I didn’t even realise. Holy shit, if I start drinking tea please murder me.”

“Gladly.” 

Newt looked over at Minho and grinned at him; Minho smiled back and Newt knew that he understood that he was apologising for being so snarky. He couldn’t help it though. He was just trying to forget about any kind of romantic interest in Thomas and Minho wasn’t helping.

“By the way, just ‘cause I made a friend doesn’t mean I forgive you for ditchin’ me at that shitty party,” Newt warned.

“Fair enough,” Minho nodded. “I’ll buy you lunch?”

“You think you can buy my friendship?” Newt scoffed, holding a hand to his heart.

“Absolutely.”

“You are correct.”

 

Newt watched the runners with vague interest, sitting on the grass a little way away and sketching absentmindedly as he did so. He wondered whether everyone other than Minho and Thomas were creeped out by his presence. Fortunately, he didn’t care much for anyone’s opinion except theirs.

“Hey, stranger.”

Newt looked up at Thomas and smiled warmly; the dark-haired boy was grinning back, hair and t-shirt plastered to his skin. His cheeks were bright red and he took deep, steadying breaths.

“Mornin’, Tommy. Not too hungover, I hope?”

“Please, I wasn’t even that drunk,” Thomas grinned. “Needed to be ready to run.”

“You’re pretty speedy, I gotta say,” Newt said, hoping it didn’t make him sound too eager. It wasn’t a lie, though; Newt would have to be blind not to notice that Thomas was one of the fastest runners on the team.

“Eh, I try,” Thomas replied modestly. He flopped onto the grass next to Newt and peered over his shoulder. Automatically, Newt angled his notebook away. “Sorry, I’m so nosy.”

“No, it’s okay…” Newt sighed. “It’s just because this sucks. I’d rather you not have this as your first impression of my art.”

“That is the single most pretentious sentence I’ve ever heard.”

“Fuck you.”

He laughed and Newt fought desperately with himself not to look at him; he failed. Thomas had his head thrown back, squinting up at the sun as he chuckled happily. Newt couldn’t help but smile, too.

“I deserved that. Hey, you gonna join the track team, or what?”

Newt’s expression quickly turned sour.

“Nope.”

“Aw, come on! You said you used to run.”

Luckily, at that moment, Minho decided to jog over and shake his sweaty hair all over them.

“You’re a dick,” Newt groaned.

“Minho, tell Newt to join track.”

“Yeah, no,” Minho snapped. Newt watched Thomas’ expression turn into one of shock and discomfort; he immediately felt bad. He didn’t want this guy to feel like they were ganging up against him. He could tell Thomas genuinely wasn’t trying to pry or pressure him.

“Sorry, Tommy,” Newt said, patting his back and ignoring the fact it was damp with sweat. “Got an old injury that plays up if I run. You’ll have to cope without me.”

Newt looked up to see Minho giving him a curious look; they rarely discussed his leg injury or the incident that caused it, especially with other people around. Newt shrugged and Minho seemed to let it go, jogging back over to the others and telling Thomas to hurry up so they could cool down.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Thomas said, looking at Newt imploringly. He plastered a grin onto his face and shook his head.

“It’s fine, Minho’s just a little overprotective. Now hurry up so we can go eat.”

Thomas nodded, a small smile finding its way back onto his face. Newt could tell he still felt guilty. But he waved over his shoulder as he ran off and that alleviated some of Newt’s tension.

Newt spent the rest of the time he was waiting thinking about how it was possible to feel such a connection with someone so quickly. He already could tell he and Thomas were going to be good friends; he was finally starting to believe all the exciting stories about meeting awesome people at college that he’d heard from pretty much everyone he knew. Sure, he would _prefer_ it if Thomas wanted to be more than that, but — Newt stopped himself. He barely even knew the guy.

 

Half an hour later, he sat in a nearby diner with Thomas, Minho, and Ben. Newt was trying not to laugh at the awkwardness (mixed with a bit of sexual tension) that he could sense between the latter two. A couple of times, Thomas caught his eye with a smirk and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

“So, Newt,” Thomas said at one point, turning to face him on their side of the booth. Opposite, Minho and Ben were absorbed in quiet conversation. “What were you drawing earlier?”

“Just some sketches of you guys running. I need to improve at the human form.”

“You drew us?” Thomas grinned. “That’s a little creepy, no?”

“Creepier than adding me on Facebook at midnight then messaging me as soon as I accepted?” Newt replied with a smirk. Thomas gasped, pretending to be offended.

“Like you said, I move fast.”

Newt wasn’t sure if he was referring to his running speed or the comment from last night, but either way, that sounded like flirting to him. He didn’t really know how to respond; he’d never come across someone as open and friendly as Thomas before. It was a little daunting for his guarded personality, though he'd been doing a pretty good job of pretending to keep up so far.

Fortunately, at that moment their food arrived and Newt didn’t have to respond.

 

Newt caught Minho watching him with a confused expression several times over lunch. Once, when he let Thomas put his arm over the back of his seat. Again, when Thomas stole some of his fries and he didn’t say anything in protest. Newt didn’t have to ask to know that Minho was picking up on these little things; he was too observant for his own good, at times. And he wasn’t exactly subtle when mouthing ‘ _Tommy?’_ at Newt with raised eyebrows after hearing him use the nickname.

So, to diffuse the pressure, he made a few little comments aimed toward Minho and Ben. It worked successfully; Ben blushed and Minho told him to kindly fuck off. Newt felt a little bad — he’d only met Ben a couple of times — but it was worth it to get the heat of Minho’s gaze off of him.

“Hey, we’re gonna take off…” Minho said sheepishly when they’d finished eating. Newt glared at him. “Back to ours. I’ll see you later, alright?”  
Code for ‘don’t come home for a couple of hours or I’ll kill you’, Newt was pretty sure.

“Sure. Have fun,” Newt replied with a sarcastic smile. Ben smiled back warmly, making Newt feel even guiltier for teasing him.

“Thanks. We should do this again next week!” he said genuinely.

Then the two of them rushed off, arms brushing unsubtly, leaving Newt and Thomas alone in their booth.

“So then there were two,” Thomas said quietly, also watching Minho and Ben. Newt suddenly felt a wave of anxiety. Sure, he was getting on with Thomas more than he had done with anyone except Minho for years, but this was _weird_ now. Being left to hang out alone with a guy he’d known for less than twenty-four hours was not a situation Newt was entirely comfortable with.

“Yeah,” he replied after an awkward pause.

“I presume you won’t be wanting to head home for a while?” Thomas asked. Newt looked over at him and he nodded his head in the direction their friends had gone with a smirk.

“Probably not a good idea,” Newt confirmed.

“Cool, what d’ya wanna do?”

Newt raised his eyebrows at him. He wished he could be as forward and confident as Thomas.

“A little presumptuous, ain’t ya, Tommy?” he teased. “What if I have things to do?”

“Well… do you?”

Newt sighed. “No, I don’t.”

“Cool, then I think we should get iced coffee and sit in the park. C’mon.”

Newt watched as Thomas slid out of the booth and walked up to the counter, presumably ordering them coffee to go. Trying to calm himself down, Newt stared out of the window and took deep breaths. He could do this. He could make a friend.

“Okay, let’s — shit!”

Thomas’ sentence was interrupted when he tripped over his own laces and stumbled forward; one of the drinks he had in his hands slipped out and landed on the table, tipping over and spilling all over Newt’s shirt. He jumped up and quickly moved out of the way.

“Newt, I’m so sorry!” Thomas whined, picking up the coffee and grabbing a load of tissues. He chucked a few onto the table before turning to Newt and dabbing at his shirt desperately. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Newt laughed. For some reason, he immediately felt comfortable again in Thomas’ presence.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“No — look! It’s all stained,” Thomas groaned, seeming to give up with the tissues and dropping his hands to his sides.

“To be honest, Greenie, I’m just glad it wasn’t hot coffee.”

Thomas didn’t laugh. He was staring at Newt with wide, embarrassed eyes and flushed cheeks. If Newt was still thinking of him romantically, he’d think it was an adorable look on him. But he wasn’t. Obviously.

“You can borrow this shirt, I’ll put my other one back on,” Thomas offered. Newt shook his head quickly.

“No way am I letting you walk around drenched in your own sweat.”

“No way am I letting you walk around covered in coffee.”

They stared each other down for a few seconds before Newt rolled his eyes with a smirk. Grinning at the win, Thomas grabbed his bag and fished out his other t-shirt. Before Newt could stop him, he pulled the one he was wearing off and shoved it into Newt’s arms. He had the other one on in an instant, but Newt still felt himself burning up in embarrassment.

“Oh my God, you can’t just _strip_ in the middle of a fuckin’ restaurant!”

“Just did,” Thomas stated simply, smiling proudly. “Your turn.”

“I’ll change in the car. C’mon.”

“Go ahead, I’ll get another coffee,” Thomas replied. 

Newt nodded and rushed out, secretly glad that he wouldn’t have to change in front of Thomas. He got into his car and swapped shirts quickly, glancing around nervously. Luckily, the car park was pretty empty. Newt tried not to overthink the fact that Thomas’ t-shirt smelled pleasantly of his aftershave, or how it was a little loose on his slimmer frame. Friends shared clothes. It was normal. Everything was fine.

Thomas hopped into the car with two iced coffees and handed one to Newt, who placed it carefully into the cupholder and warned Thomas to be careful. He chuckled and promised, hand on heart, that he wouldn’t dare let his clumsiness ruin Newt’s car.

“Wow,” Thomas mumbled. “My shirt suits you more than it suits me.”

“It’s just a plain green t-shirt, Tommy.”

“And?”

“And… thanks? I guess?”

Thomas smiled that warm smile that Newt found completely infectious. Newt reached over and shoved him, mumbling at him to shut up and tell him where to drive. Thomas directed them to a nearby park, where they sat in the car with the doors open and their feet up on the dashboard, drinking their coffees and getting to know each other more.

“Is it weird that this doesn’t feel weird?” Thomas asked at one point.

“Hmm?”

“Like, I feel like this should be awkward. We _just_ met. And I’m not always so good at making friends.”

Newt laughed. He hadn’t realised Thomas was on the same page as him.

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ the same. It’s cool, though. Nice to finally meet someone I actually don’t hate hanging around with.”

“Haven’t you met anyone on your course?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Not really,” Newt sighed. “Americans don’t appreciate my sense of humour. Think I’m just rude.”

“You’re not rude,” Thomas said simply.

“I know. Wait, did you say you’re not good at meeting people? Because that’s bullshit,” Newt laughed.

“How?” 

“Hmm, let me think,” Newt placed a hand on his chin and pretended to be confused. “You talked to me for an hour last night without even knowing me, made the effort to add me on Facebook and message me, asked me to hang out the very next day, haven’t shut up for more than five —“

“Alright, I get it,” Thomas interrupted, laughing. Newt couldn’t help but join in. “But that’s kinda the point… I can be a little too much for people sometimes.”

Newt considered this. Truthfully, Thomas _should’ve_ been a little too much for him, too. But instead of being annoyed by it, Newt found his enthusiasm and curiosity endearing. Thomas was almost the complete opposite to him — though they had a few traits in common — but it worked. Newt felt as though Thomas possessed some of the qualities he was missing, and vice versa, meaning that they balanced each other out nicely.

“Don’t let people make you think that. If you’re too much for someone it’s only because they’re not enough for you.”

Thomas looked at him with an unreadable expression; his lips quirked up into a small smile but his eyes seemed to hold a hint of sadness.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he said quietly.

“Don’t go cryin’ on me now, Greenie. Can’t have you spoiling my stone cold reputation, now.”

Thomas broke into a grin.

“It’s alright. Your secret’s safe with me. No one has to know you’re a _sweetheart_.”

“Ugh, never say that again.”

“Can’t promise anything, Newton.”

“Don’t test me.”

At that moment, Newt’s phone went off, making him sigh impatiently.

 

 

**To: Newt**

**From: Minho**

the coast is clear if you want to come home. don’t worry if you’re having too much fun on your date, though ;-)

 

 

“Minho?” Thomas asked.

“Uh huh,” Newt replied, going to put his phone back in his pocket. Before he could, Thomas snatched it. “Hey!”

“I’m just putting my number in! Oh, he thinks we’re on a date. That’s cute.”

“You’re so bloody nosy.”

“I know.”

Newt snatched his phone back when Thomas offered it and glared at him. He merely grinned and Newt realised that, truthfully, he wanted to make that expression appear on Thomas’ face as often as he could every day for as long as they knew each other.

 

Newt dropped Thomas home — as it turned out, they were only a short drive away from his apartment — before heading back to his.

Two things were waiting for him when he arrived. First, was Minho, with millions of questions about what he and Thomas had been up to and _why on earth_ Newt was wearing his shirt.

“Also, what’s with the _Tommy_ thing? You two act like a couple of lovesick—”

“Minho, please shut up. I just think he’s nice and we should make an effort with him, alright? It’s pretty rare that we both actually wanna be friends with the same person.”

Minho nodded seriously. “True. By the way, do you… like Ben? Maybe we should hang out the four of us a bit more? If you want to.”

Newt grinned at the rare glimpse at Minho’s vulnerable side.

“He seems cool. Let’s do that.”

“Cool.”

“I’m gonna have a nap.”

“Cool.”

Newt rolled his eyes at Minho’s sudden change of mood and made his way into his room. He flopped onto his bed and pulled up his phone; there, the second thing waited for him.

 

 

**To: Newt**

**From: Unknown**

YOU BETTER NOT HAVE SAVED ME AS GREENIE

 

 

Newt laughed and considered it for a moment.

 

 

**To: Tommy**

**From: Newt**

Hello to you, too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me? incapable of waiting more than five minutes to post another chapter? i don't know what you mean
> 
> enjoy some sneaky references to the original fic !!!
> 
> tweet me hate @curednewts


	3. flip the script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same story, different perspective.

To say Thomas was bored would be an understatement. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guys he’d met from track, he really did, but it seemed they had different definitions of ‘fun’ to him. He enjoyed drinking now and then, but getting wasted on vodka shots and cheap beer for no apparent reason wasn’t his idea of a good time. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only person with this opinion.

Or so he thought, until he spotted someone on the other side of the room looking equally as uncomfortable as him.

Thomas had never seen the boy before; he wasn’t even sure he did track, though he had the stature for it. And if he did, he certainly hadn’t been to many of the meets, because Thomas felt like he would've remembered him. He was tall and slim with blonde hair messily swooping across his forehead. He couldn’t make out much of his eyes from where he was stood, but the way they scanned across the room gave off an intimidating aura. He was dressed in a basic long-sleeved shirt and jeans, but the simplicity of it made him look all the more sophisticated.

Before he knew it, Thomas’ feet were carrying him towards the guy, as if drawn by a magnet.

“Not your thing?” Thomas asked abruptly when he reached him. 

The boy turned to him and yeah, Thomas was pretty glad he came and got a closer look at those eyes. They were a few shades darker than his own, wide and analytical as he looked him up and down. Thomas thought he could see a hint of surprise in them, as if he was confused as to why he was bothering him. He tried to maintain a confident expression even though the once-over he was receiving made him feel anything but.

“No, not really. I don’t even do track.” 

Of course, he had to be gorgeous, tall _and_ British. The universe just hated Thomas that much.

“You don’t?” Thomas asked, regretting the next words before they’d even formed. “I kinda figured you did, ‘cause… y’know.”

_Subtle, Thomas. So cool._

The boy didn’t seem to mind, though; he merely quirked an eyebrow at Thomas teasingly before laughing. It was a short, breathy chuckle that reminded Thomas of childhood and summer and warmth.

“Used to,” he replied. “Not anymore.”

“How come?” Thomas asked, curiosity taking over his mouth as usual.

The stranger rolled his eyes, which Thomas found oddly attractive. 

“What’s with the twenty questions, hm?”

Thomas laughed then, cursing himself a little for the enthusiasm behind the sound. He wasn’t amping it up for the sake of the boy’s ego, though. The sarcasm in his tone was just too perfectly hilarious. As was the gentle smile playing on his lips.

“Sorry, sorry. Just you’re the only one here not disgustingly drunk so I figured you might wanna chat. I’m Thomas.”

Thomas held out his hand and the boy took it, shaking it firmly. He was sure he must've imagined a slight hesitancy from both of them before letting go.

“Newt.” 

“I’m sorry?”

Thomas wanted to hit himself. He’d heard him perfectly well, he was just so surprised by the uniqueness of the boy’s name. Luckily, Newt just laughed at him. Thomas wanted to feel embarrassed but, well, he deserved it. He was being stupid.

“My name. It’s Newt.”

“Oh! Sorry, I’m an idiot,” Thomas replied, deciding to play it off as if he hadn’t heard him. Newt said something else, then, but Thomas was too busy watching his playful smirk and shining eyes to hear it properly. So, he smiled back and hoped that he hadn’t missed anything important.

“I’m gonna go grab us a beer,” Thomas said before rushing off. He needed a moment to compose himself.

He practically ran into the kitchen which was, fortunately, empty. Taking a deep breath and leaning against the counter for a moment, Thomas asked himself what the _hell_ he was doing. Newt was way out of his league and didn’t exactly seem eager to be there, yet Thomas was bombarding him with questions and invading his personal space. He was surprised he been swiftly kicked in the stomach yet. He deserved it.

Then again, Newt seemed friendly enough despite his sarcastic and unamused demeanour. He’d laughed at Thomas a few times, but not unkindly, and he hadn’t seemed too irritated by Thomas’ presence.

He decided to grab them a beer, go back over, and see where things went. If Newt showed any sign of disinterest or annoyance, Thomas would promptly leave — and probably drown himself in alcohol and embarrassment.

Thomas tried to pretend he didn’t feel the tiniest jolt of jealousy when he saw Minho talking to Newt with their heads close together. He’d left for _one minute_.

“Here you go. Oh, hey, Minho,” Thomas said, conveniently placing himself in between the two of them.

Minho greeted him enthusiastically; he tried to return the gesture because, after all, Minho was the closest friend he’d made at track so far. Maybe at all of college. But there was no doubt about the fact that Thomas really _really_ hoped he hadn’t gotten through to Newt before he did.

Luckily, Minho promptly revealed that they were roommates and Newt confirmed that they’d been friends for ages, and the feeling was quickly alleviated.

Thomas still felt a pang of relief when Minho left them alone, though.

 

As it turned out, he had no need to worry about Newt finding him annoying or boring or weird. They chatted openly and easily about everything from school, hometowns, friends, food and drink. It was small talk, really, but it felt all the more intimate due to the way their senses of humour bounced off of each other. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this excited to get to know someone.

That all came crashing down when Newt asked a question that brought Thomas back to reality.

“Are you going?” he questioned, referring to the bigger, wilder afterparty most of his friends were attending. 

“Nah, promised I’d meet Rachel,” Thomas answered automatically before realising what those words actually _meant._ Rachel. Sweet, clever, pretty Rachel who he’d been seeing since they’d met in their first biology lecture. Rachel, who he’d completely forgotten about until that moment, too caught up in everything _Newt_.

“Rachel…?” Newt asked. Thomas hoped he wasn’t hallucinating the slight change in the expression behind his eyes.

“Yeah, ha. She does biology, too. Been seeing her since first week.” Thomas hated himself for feeling so reluctant to share this information.

If Newt was feeling in any way disappointed at this revelation, he recovered fast. “Wow, Tommy. You move fast, huh?”

“Oh, it’s my natural charisma,” Thomas joked. He was stalling the question, not wanting to seem too eager, though his mind was screaming _Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy._ “Also, ‘Tommy’?” 

Smooth.

“Sorry, _Thomas_ ,” Newt corrected with an eye roll. How could someone look so good doing something so simple and inconsequential? “Not a nickname guy?”

“No, no!” Thomas replied far too quickly. “I like it. Only my friend Teresa calls me Tom, only you can call me Tommy. It can be our thing.”

_You’re a bumbling idiot, Thomas Green_ , a stern voice told him. It sounded suspiciously like Teresa herself.

“Our _thing_?”

“Oh absolutely, we need a _thing_. Like mine and Minho’s handshake. Really solidifies the friendship.”

“You’re an idiot,” Newt scoffed. Thomas thought vaguely that he had never minded so little when being insulted. “But alright. Tommy it is.”

So there it was. He was an idiot, but he was _Tommy._ Newt hadn’t rejected the idea of their friendship. It made Thomas feel completely elated and so he decided, if they were officially friends, it wouldn’t hurt to ask whether Newt was seeing someone.

If he was undeniably relieved when he found out he wasn’t, that was no one’s business but his own.

 

On his way to meet Rachel at her workplace, Thomas played the night’s events over and over in his head a thousand times. Newt teasing him, smirking at him, rolling his eyes at him. Breathing out sharply against his neck when he had hugged him briefly. Inviting him over to his and Minho’s apartment to hang out sometime. _God_ , he’d never wanted to _know_ someone so badly.

The guilt was a little overwhelming, especially when he saw Rachel, who greeted him with a peck on the cheek. But hey, they hadn’t known each other long, and it wasn’t even really official. Plus, he hadn’t _done_ anything wrong. He hadn’t kissed the guy. _He so wanted to kiss the guy_.

He found himself zoning out all throughout the rest of the night. When Rachel asked what was up he played it off as tiredness and she smiled sympathetically, saying she could leave if he would prefer. And as awful as he felt, he told her that he wouldn’t mind heading to sleep. And so she left, leaving Thomas reeling with guilt and shame.

A feeling that was hardly helped by the hour-long session he spent stalking Newt’s Facebook profile before finally building up the courage to send him a message once he’d accepted his request.

 

 

***

 

 

Thomas would be lying if he said he wasn’t ridiculously nervous and excited to turn up at the next day’s track practice.

He tried to brush it off once he arrived and warmed up, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing over in Newt’s direction ever so often. Either his new friend was too observed in whatever it was he was writing — drawing? — to look up, or Thomas was just looking over at the wrong times. They didn’t catch each other’s eyes once and it was starting to infuriate him. So as soon as he’d done his necessary laps and sprints, he jogged over to where Newt was sprawled out on the grass.

“Hey, stranger,” he said cheerily. The relief he felt when Newt’s face split into a welcoming grin was unparalleled. He’d been so worried that he’d change his mind about wanting to be associated with Thomas overnight.

“Mornin’, Tommy.” _Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy Tommy._ “Not too hungover, I hope?”

“Please, I wasn’t even that drunk. Needed to be ready to run.”

“You’re pretty speedy, I gotta say,” Newt replied. So he _had_ been watching, and life was just cruel enough not to let Thomas catch him. Then again, the compliment made up for it.

“Eh, I try,” Thomas said, not wanting to show how much his ego had just inflated. He sat down next to Newt to catch his breath and saw that Newt had in fact been working on a drawing. He tried to get a closer look but Newt turned it away from him and Thomas felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. “Sorry, I’m so nosy.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just because this sucks. I’d rather you not have this as your first impression of my art.”

_I’m sure anything you make is incredible_ , Thomas thought. “That is the single most pretentious sentence I’ve ever heard,” he said.

“Fuck you.”

And then they laughed together and it felt like two old friends catching up. Everything about Newt made Thomas feel unnaturally comfortable, considering how long they’d known each other. He hoped beyond anything that Newt felt the same.

That feeling of safety, of finally being around someone who he could be unapologetically himself around, came crashing down once he overstepped boundaries, as always.

“I deserved that. Hey, you gonna join the track team, or what?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, come on! You said you used to run.”

Minho appeared from nowhere and Thomas perked up, ready to get his friend in on it. He was sure that if they both persuaded him, Newt would be tempted to join the team.

“Minho, tell newt to join track.”

“Yeah, no.” The sharpness in Minho’s tone felt like actual pain had been inflicted on him. What had he done? He looked between the two of them a little desperately and noticed Newt’s expression soften. Then he felt a gentle hand between his shoulder blades; he tried not to flinch.

“Sorry, Tommy. Got an old injury that plays up if I run. You’ll have to cope without me.”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak but stopped short when he noticed the curious look Newt and Minho were exchanging. He still felt awful, but Minho’s smile in his direction when he told him to get off his ass and back over to the team relaxed him a little bit.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Thomas told Newt, trying his best to meet his eyes though he felt awkward and embarrassed. Newt grinned and Thomas experienced a vague feeling of ease; as though all was right in the world again.

“It’s fine, Minho’s just a little overprotective. Now hurry up so we can go eat.”

Thomas smiled and waved as he ran off, trying not to let himself overthink everything that had just happened. He also stopped himself from wondering too much about Newt’s injury, or how it happened. Though he was painfully curious, it was obvious that it wasn’t something he liked to discuss, and Thomas was determined to respect that.

 

Luckily, lunch went by without any similar incidents. In fact, Thomas was having more fun than he had in weeks. The month before he started college had been stressful; he was nervous and busy, balancing working two summer jobs with packing and planning his move away from home. The relief he’d felt when he arrived had been short lived, because almost immediately his workload piled up more than he’d ever have imagined. He was glad he had track, because otherwise he doubted he’d have any time to make a group of friends and socialise.

All was going well; he’d just plucked up the courage to ask Newt if he wanted to carry on hanging out without Minho and Ben. Then, as always, he did something to mess it all up.

_Why_ _on earth_ Newt was laughing as Thomas tried to get some of the spilled coffee off of his shirt, Thomas wasn’t sure. It was probably ruined, considering it was white. But Newt was giggling and telling Thomas not to worry as if he’d merely bumped into him, not soaked him in cold coffee.

“No — look! It’s all stained,” Thomas whined, hating himself for sounding so pathetic, but he really wasn’t sure Newt was understanding the extent of how much he’d just embarrassed himself and ruined Newt’s clothes.

“To be honest, Greenie,” Newt said; Thomas’ insides flipped at the teasing tone and stupid nickname. The  _second_ nickname Newt had given him in the space of one day. “I’m just glad it wasn’t hot coffee.”

Thomas stared at Newt, trying to detect any hint of annoyance or impatience. But Newt was just stood there, smirking in amusement, meeting Thomas’ gaze boldly. Thomas felt himself turning red; how he was deserving of being in the presence of someone so effortlessly cool was beyond him.

“You can borrow this shirt, I’ll put my other one back on,” Thomas said eventually. Newt looked alarmed at the idea.

“No way am I letting you walk around drenched in your own sweat.”

“No way am I letting you walk around covered in coffee.”

And there it was. The eye roll. Which Thomas took as a yes and so leaned down to find his other t-shirt. Truthfully, he did hope it wasn’t too sweaty, but giving Newt his relatively clean one and making amends seemed worth the risk of that.

Thomas wished he could’ve taken a picture of Newt’s face when he changed shirts there and then.

“Oh my God, you can’t just _strip_ in the middle of a fuckin’ restaurant!”

“Just did. Your turn.”

“I’ll change in the car.”

Thomas pretended — both to Newt and himself — that this didn’t disappoint him in the slightest.

Luckily, when he caught up to Newt after buying another coffee and apologising profusely to the waitress, the sight of Newt wearing his shirt was enough to make up for the fact he didn’t get to see him changing into it.

 

At the park they once again chatted easily for a while and Thomas found himself completely fascinated by his new friend. He’d even managed to forget about his inappropriate crush on him, those feelings overtaken by interest in their conversation and genuine curiosity about Newt’s life and personality. He was witty, clever, artistic, kind and so sure of himself. Thomas had never met anyone like him. Again, he found himself wondering if Newt was as perplexed by their ability to get along so well as he was.

So he asked. Because, realistically, Thomas could only hold in his thoughts for so long before they came out in a whirlwind of questions.

“Is it weird that this doesn’t feel weird?”

“Hmm?”

“Like, I feel like this should be awkward. We _just_ met. And I’m not always so good at making friends.”

Newt laughed, then, and Thomas felt his stomach jolt unpleasantly, afraid that he was being mocked. But then Newt nodded.

“Yeah, I was thinkin’ the same. It’s cool, though. Nice to finally meet someone I actually don’t hate hanging around with.”

Coming from Newt, Thomas took this as fairly high praise. Though he was pretty surprised to hear that Newt hadn’t befriended everyone on campus already. He couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to know Newt.

“Haven’t you met anyone on your course?” he asked.

“Not really. Americans don’t appreciate my sense of humour. Think I’m just rude.”

“You’re not rude,” Thomas blurted out. Newt smirked.

“I know. Wait, did you say you’re not good at meeting people? Because that’s bullshit.”

“How?” Thomas replied, genuinely confused. How could Newt not see that he was annoying and obnoxious and too curious for his own good?

Newt turned towards him a bit and plastered a look of mock-confusion onto his face. “Hmm, let me think. You talked to me for an hour last night without even knowing me, made the effort to add me on Facebook and message me, asked me to hang out the very next day, haven’t shut up for more than five—“

Thomas laughed and interrupted Newt’s little monologue, uncomfortable at the reminder of his clinginess. 

“Alright, I get it. But that’s kinda the point… I can be a little too much for people sometimes.”

Newt was silent for a few seconds too long, nearly sending Thomas into a spiral of panic. Then: 

“Don’t let people make you think that. If you’re too much for someone it’s only because they’re not enough for you.”

Thomas was stunned into silence. He’d never thought about it like that before. Every time someone had pushed him away, whether it be by subtly distancing themselves or straight up telling him to back off, he’d blamed himself. He’d tried to _change_ himself to suit them. Fit a mould. He had a few friends from home, but none of them had really been loyal and unconditionally supportive of him — except Teresa. He thought Minho had the potential for it, too.

And now, he was sat next to a boy who had accepted him for who he was within twenty-four hours of knowing him, despite several embarrassing incidents that should’ve made Newt run in the other direction. Here was someone who felt safe and _familiar_ , despite how little they knew about each other. Thomas wanted to keep Newt in his life, wanted to know everything there was to know about him. And judging by what Newt had just said, he wouldn’t be opposed to that idea, either. So he vowed to push his crush to the back of his mind and give this friendship everything he had.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Thomas told him, meaning it wholeheartedly. He hoped that got his point across.

The smile that preluded Newt’s inevitably sarcastic comment lit up Thomas’ entire being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally!!!!!! thomas' pov!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! hope i did his voice justice and suRPRISE (or not) he was obsessed with newt from day one
> 
> so that's it for this lil prequel, sorry if you were expecting more but i didn't want to start a whole new story, just giving some insight into how they met!
> 
> i might come back to this universe but i think i'll work on some other stuff first so i don't bore you (or myself)
> 
> thanks again for being the sweetest <333 see ya soon


End file.
